


A Familiar Taste (The Peaches & Herb Remix)

by saddestboner



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Community: kamikazeremix, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 12:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddestboner/pseuds/saddestboner
Summary: Carl didn’t often long for former lovers.





	A Familiar Taste (The Peaches & Herb Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eafay70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eafay70/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Familiar Taste](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16521773) by [eafay70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eafay70/pseuds/eafay70). 



> Written for Kamikaze Hockey Remix 2019.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/profile)[**blastellanos**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/) for looking at this for me.
> 
> _I was a fool to ever leave your side_   
>  _Me minus you is such a lonely ride_

Carl didn’t often long for former lovers. He didn’t _pine_. He was a prince, after all. Pining was beneath him. If he lacked for companionship, one of his advisors would find him suitable company to take his mind off his loneliness. And princes were so rarely lonely.

But Derick was special. Derick had come into his life and, unlike so many who have danced at the edges of Carl’s life, actually fit right in. They’d been inseparable those few years together, before Carl was sent away by his father.

Derick and Carl have been chasing after one another ever since, though never getting quite close enough to touch.

 

 

 

 

 

* 

 

 

 

 

 

Carl tries to stay away from anything that might remind him of Derick. It’s too hard to think about him, knowing they’ll never be able to be together. Carl is too important to be allowed to love for love’s sake; he has a political marriage in his future, to someone he’s never met. Derick would never be able to understand that. He’ll have a normal life, meet someone else perhaps.

Sometimes, though, it’s unavoidable. Sometimes, fate intervenes.

Carl and his traveling entourage are encamped in a small village for the night. It’s a heavily wooded place, and Carl is familiar with it, having spent some time here when he was a boy. He sneaks away from his cortege their first night in town and goes to explore.

After a long while of walking, Carl comes upon a secluded clearing. He can hear birdsong, even this late at night, and the sound of a bubbling brook. As he gets closer, he realizes someone is bathing in the water. Carl pushes through the tall reeds and grasses to get a better, closer look.

Carl catches a glimpse of pale skin and damp, dark hair. The figure in the brook is humming to himself, a familiar haunting tune that Carl can’t quite place. He moves further through the reeds and grasses, toward the sound.

He realizes, with a jolt, that he knows that tune. It’s the lullaby that his mama used to sing to him when he was a small boy.

Carl emerges from the woods, and nearly falls over with shock. 

“ _Derick_?” he exclaims.

Derick spins around to face him, waist-deep in the water. Droplets of it glisten on his damp skin and in his hair, and Carl’s fingers ache to touch him.

It’s been years since they were last in one another’s presence, since they were close enough to touch, and yet it feels like nothing’s really changed. Except it _has_. Carl is still heir apparent and Derick is still a commoner.

“Why are you here?” Derick finally asks, his voice trembling lightly. His eyes dart to the riverbank, where his clothes are piled up.

“My entourage has settled in for the night,” Carl says, averting his gaze, unable to look Derick in the eyes. “We’re to cross the river in the morning. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, least of all someone I know.”

Derick sweeps a hand through his wet hair. “Could you toss me my clothes?”

Carl bends down and picks up Derick’s shirt and trousers, weighing the coarse material in his hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“Please don’t, Carl,” Derick interrupts him, holding his hand out impatiently for his clothes.

Carl ignores his waggling fingers. “Give me a chance to explain,” he says.

Derick sighs. “What’s to explain? I knew what I was getting into,” he says. “I knew the realities that came with being in love with a prince.”

Carl sits on the riverbank, not caring much if he muddies up his clothes (which he surely is). “I could have communicated better,” he says, softly. “I could have explained why I had to leave, at the very least. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“I appreciate it,” Derick says, and it sounds like he means it. “I didn’t blame you, you know. I never did.”

“I blamed myself,” Carl says. “I wish I’d done better by you… I wish…”

“What is it?” Derick asks, wading closer to the bank. 

Carl picks up his shirt and pants and tosses them to him.

“I wish it wasn’t too late,” Carl says.

Derick gives pause before replying. “What makes you think it’s too late?” he asks.

“I’m going to be married to a princess of my father’s choice,” Carl says, his tone growing hard and bitter.

Derick hauls himself out of the water and settles next to Carl, as he dresses slowly, unable to look him in the eye.

“So, why are you here and not with your cortege?” Derick asks. “Why are you encamped for the night and not traveling on to meet your future bride?”

Carl isn’t sure how to answer that question. “I couldn’t settle my nerves,” he says, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. He tugs at a few of the flyaway strands of blond hair, before tucking them behind his ear.

Derick finishes dressing. “Sounds like an excuse,” he says. “I never knew you to be one who made excuses.”

“I needed to get out of my head,” Carl says. “And instead, I found you.”

Derick lifts his head and meets Carl’s eyes. “So you did.”

“I…I never stopped loving you, Derick,” Carl murmurs, not allowing himself to drop his gaze no matter how badly he wants to. “I wish I’d told you. I wish I could do a lot of things differently.”

Derick reaches out and wraps his fingers loosely around Carl’s. “I don’t think I would have believed you,” he admits. “You were a _prince_. I could hardly believe you were genuinely interested in me and not just as a bedwarmer.”

“Derick,” Carl tries to protest, but Derick shushes him with the brush of his lips against Carl’s.

“It took a long time for me to believe you back then,” he continues. “I’ll work on it." 

“So, you’re saying… What _are_ you saying?” Carl asks, lifting Derick’s hand and kissing his knuckles gently.

“I’m saying yes,” Derick says, leaning back in and kissing Carl again. “Show me how badly you missed me.”

Carl smiles against Derick’s lips before wrapping his arms around him and kissing him back. 

Carl doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow. All he knows is right now, wrapped up in Derick’s arms, he’s where he belongs.  

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. **If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.**


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